


The Bishop's Key

by Kelinswriter



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Sanvers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-15 02:04:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13603278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelinswriter/pseuds/Kelinswriter
Summary: Alex goes out for a drink on Valentine's Day...and gets more than she bargained for.Canon compliant through 3x10(ish) - I couldn't find a good place to work the passport in. Also many thanks to those Twitter elves who helped me figure out an appropriately nerdy science metaphor when I really needed one.For Sanvers Secret Valentine 2018 - Here you go, Katyaa! This might not have been the Valentine's fic you wanted...but I hope you like it anyway. :)Please see notes for (extremely mild) warnings and an explanation for that mysterious title.





	The Bishop's Key

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katyaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katyaa/gifts).



“Happy Valentine’s Day!” 

Alex tensed, bracing the heels of her hands against the console at the heart of the DEO command center. At least the words hadn’t been said to her; everyone had figured out fairly early in the day that the Assistant Director was in a foul mood and it was best to stay clear if they wanted to keep all their appendages. Reign had everyone on edge, and it didn’t help matters that J’onn had been summoned to Washington for an emergency meeting with the president and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Though Kara had recovered from her battle with the mysterious woman, it felt like a bad time for him to be away.

And to top it all off, it was Valentine’s Day.

Alex had spent all day trying not to think about last year; about her disastrous attempt to give Maggie a Valentine’s Day surprise, only to learn that the day was the anniversary of the worst moment of her girlfriend’s life. Maggie had made it up to her later, with dancing and roses and a romantic night in a hotel room that had ended with both of them breathless and exhausted. And then Maggie had curled into Alex’s shoulder, her voice low and throaty as she murmured, “Well, that’s one way to reclaim this stupid Hallmark holiday.”

 _But then I turned around and gave her another day to hate,_ Alex thought, her mind replaying, for probably the millionth time, the look of sheer agony on Maggie’s face when Alex had said it was over. The cold, brutal finality of the words: _We can’t be together._ Even now, she couldn’t quite believe that they’d come out of her mouth —that she’d let Maggie walk out the door. 

But she had.

“Winn, where are we at with the analysis of Reign’s attack patterns?” Alex asked, needing to focus on something more productive than rehashing the wreck she’d made of her personal life. She looked over at Winn’s station and saw him sitting with his head down and shoulders hunched, the entirety of his attention focused on his cell phone. “Agent Schott, you mind?”

“Oh, sorry,” Winn said, quickly tapping out the rest of his text. He hit send and tucked his phone into his back pocket, turning his attention to the monitor. “The computer’s still processing, but the attack vectors seem random at best. It’s like Reign just flies around looking for bad guys to take out.”

“Only half the time, they’re not actually bad guys these days,” Alex said, slamming her fist down on the console. She heard a text alert and snapped her head around, giving Winn the sort of glare that usually turned him into a blubbering puddle of cold sweat. “Seriously?”

“Yee…es?” Winn said, freezing in the act of reaching behind him to extract his phone. He had the grace to cower as he brought his hand back around to rest on his keyboard. “Can I do something for you, Agent…Assistant Director…Alex?”

“Put your phone on silent, for one,” Alex snapped. “And maybe text your girlfriend on your own time.”

“But I haven’t had a girlfriend for…” Alex narrowed her eyes like they were laser beams boring into his skull, and Winn trailed off, ducking his head. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“And get me that analysis before you go home.” Alex saw Winn open his mouth to complain and just stared at him, tilting her head slightly to the side. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Winn repeated, a thin glaze of terror coating the words. It bought Alex a few moments of blessed silence, but only a few, for Winn drew in a breath, flinching a little as if in anticipation of her reaction, and said, “Hey, um, Alex? This is going to take a while. Why don’t you go grab a drink, maybe get something to eat, and I’ll call you when it’s done?”

“Not hungry,” Alex said, though her stomach had been gurgling for the better part of three hours. She had, she realized, forgotten to eat lunch in the frenzy of activity that had followed J’onn’s sudden departure for DC. And as it was well after six now, that meant that she hadn’t eaten anything for more than twelve hours. _And even that was just a stale bagel,_ she thought, remembering the times when she’d actually started the day with a decent breakfast, not because she thought it was important, but because Maggie did. _That big, beautiful brain works better when it’s running on something besides coffee and carbs,_ was what Maggie used to say before making her hold still long enough for scrambled eggs and toast. And Alex had felt better; had felt stronger, sharper for it. Now, most days, all she felt was tired, and sad, and afraid that she’d thrown away the best chance she’d ever have at a real, full, happy life. 

It had been three months, and she still wasn’t even close to being ready to move on.

She walked over to Winn’s station, hovering over his shoulder while he typed in commands and narrowed his eyes at the screen and mumbled and tried not to twitch every time the phone in his pocket vibrated, which it seemed to be doing a lot based on how often he was shifting around in his chair. But it wasn’t until she reached over his shoulder and pointed at something on his screen, startling him so badly that he nearly jumped out of his chair, that he rounded on her. “Alex, I know you’re in charge and I’m not supposed to yell at you, but would you please just get out of here for a while?”

Alex stood up, feeling strangely proud that for once, Winn’s frustration was overriding his fear of confrontation — even if it was inconvenient as hell. “Are you trying to throw me out of my own secret clandestine government agency, Agent Schott?” she asked, trying not to smirk.

“If it means I can actually get my work done, well, yes Ma’am, I am,” Winn replied, and then took a deep breath, as if he too, was feeling overwhelmed by the force of his own bravado. He pointed at the screen, saying, “I’ve got the best computers in the world running the best algorithms I can think of, and it’s still going to take time. So why don’t you do us both a favor and take a break while I do my work?”

Alex let out a sigh, nodding. “I know. A watched titration never equilibrates.”

“I have no idea what that means, but yes.” Winn pointed toward the door. “I promise I’ll call you as soon as I have some answers.”

“Fine, I’ll go.” Alex checked her watch and pushed away from the console, heading toward the locker room. After a few steps she paused, calling over her shoulder, “The second you get the results, Winn.”

“The literal second!” he replied, waving her away. “Now go. Have some wings for me.”

Alex nodded, though inwardly she was wincing at the suggestion. She hadn’t been to the bar since the night of the breakup, when she’d sat just a few feet away from the place where she and Maggie had first kissed, drowning her sorrows in the Macallan M’gann stocked for special occasions. Kara had pulled her out of there, dragging her up to Midvale so she could drink some more and feel sorry for herself, but it hadn’t done anything to quell the gnawing ache inside her, the one insisting that she’d given up way too soon. It had lessened since then; some days, it almost seemed like it had fully faded away. And then something would happen to remind her of Maggie and it would start all over again, stronger and more painful than before. 

Something like this stupid, cheesy Hallmark holiday that she had once loved so goddamn much.

She changed clothes, grabbed her bike keys, and headed out. She’d intended to take a ride, maybe head out toward the desert, but her growling stomach and force of habit led her, inexorably, toward the bar. Maybe Winn was right and some wings and a few drinks would help her clear her head, or at least remind her of better times for a little while.

She parked her bike in its usual spot around the corner and paused to check for a response to her text asking Kara to join her. _Lena’s got me on deadline and I can’t go MIA without blowing my cover_ was waiting for her, and Alex blew out a breath, wondering whether it would make more sense for her to just head home. But the scent of fries and wings lingered in the air, calling to her like a siren song, and the sound of the jukebox reverberating through the walls was tugging at her heart with a nostalgia that bordered on homesickness. Her growling stomach was what tipped the scales; she rounded the corner, heading toward the door… 

…and nearly walked straight into a full-on brawl in progress.

At first, all she could see were two huge, hulking aliens, their broad, ridged backs straining the seams of their ragged t-shirts. They were both throwing punches, aiming roundhouse after roundhouse at an opponent whose presence was completely obscured by their massive bulk. Whomever was under attack had grabbed a trash can lid and was using it as a shield, if the metallic clanging Alex heard every time a punch landed was any indication. _Smart move,_ Alex thought, reaching for the gun at the small of her back. 

She was striding forward, looking for a clean shot that wouldn’t put whomever was under attack at risk when one of the aliens got a hand around the lid and ripped it away, sending it clanging against the alley’s brick wall. His opponent immediately pulled back, the movement carrying her directly beneath the pool of light radiating from the lamp above the speakeasy’s door.

And Alex caught a glimpse of black leather and even blacker hair.

 _Maggie,_ Alex thought, her blood pressure skyrocketing as a mix of raw emotion flooded through her, a roiling surge that was both fear for her fiancée — _ex-fiancée,_ she reminded herself for perhaps the thousandth time — and rage at the attackers. She fired a shot at the one on the right, who was raising his fist to rain down a blow on Maggie’s now-unprotected head. 

The alien must have sensed that he was in the crosshairs, because he dodged to the side just in time, taking only a glancing blow to the shoulder that didn’t do much more than slow him down. He snarled, his human-seeming face shifting to show a massive layer of razor-like teeth, before he leapt upward, his jump propelling him all the way to the bar’s roof. Alex fired a second blast in his direction and pivoted, zeroing in on the other alien, who was trying very hard to finish the fight. Maggie was holding her own, however, mostly by using their size difference to her advantage — first by ducking under his flailing arm, then by sidestepping his follow-up punch. 

It was only then, as Maggie came around, that she realized Alex had joined the fight. Their eyes met, and for a split-second Maggie hesitated, her mouth shaping a startled “Oh” as she absorbed Alex’s presence in the alley. And then several things happened at once:

Alex jerked her head to the right, gesturing for Maggie to get out of the way so she could get a clean shot at the alien.

The alien snagged Maggie by the back of the jacket, flinging her toward the garbage pile near the entrance to the bar.

And Alex fired.

The blast missed, not because Alex hadn’t aimed true, but because, like his counterpart, this alien was fast as hell. He didn’t go vertical, however; instead, he charged straight toward Alex, his sharp teeth trying to take a chunk out of her arm as he barreled past. Alex rolled to avoid the contact, coming up fast and bracing her elbow on one knee as she aimed blast after blast — none of which took him down.

“Shit,” Alex snapped, wondering what the hell that guy had been. He didn’t look like anything she recognized — some sort of shapeshifter, maybe, or possibly even a Metahuman. But all thoughts of that faded when she heard a groan from the far end of the alley, followed by the clang of a trash can tipping to the ground. She scrambled to her feet, racing over to Maggie and dropping to her knees. “Maggie? You okay?”

“Hiya, Danvers,” Maggie said, squinting up at Alex in the sickly yellow light. “It’s been a hot minute.” 

“Or three,” Alex said, tucking her gun into her waistband. “Can you move?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Maggie pushed up on one elbow and winced, clutching at her left side. “Ow.”

“Let me see.” Alex drew aside the folds of Maggie’s jacket, checking her shirt for blood. There was none, thankfully, but the stack of cinder blocks at the bottom of the garbage pile was a pretty good indication as to why she might be hurting. “I’m guessing you cracked a few ribs.” 

“No shit,” Maggie snapped, the pain — or was that something else? — sharpening her tone.

Alex ignored the sting of it and held out her hand, only to have Maggie hesitate, a muscle in her cheek twitching. And Alex felt her stomach twist, a spike of terror running through her whole body at the realization that Maggie might actually grab hold — that Maggie Sawyer’s fingers might be entwined with hers once again. 

It was stupid, of course, and exactly the kind of thinking that could get the both of them killed. Maggie must have reached that conclusion too, for she dropped her eyes and took Alex’s hand, clasping it tight as Alex pulled her into a sitting position. She drew in a deep breath and pressed the heel of her hand to her side, saying, “Sons of bitches jumped me.”

“Who were those guys, anyway?” Alex asked, leaning back on her heels so that Maggie would have some space to get her bearings. Or that’s what she told herself as the tingle that ran through her palm at the touch of Maggie’s skin spread outward, radiating through every cell in her body until she felt like she might break apart. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her breathing under control, and saw Maggie look up at her, her head tilting to the side while her lower lip twitched just slightly, the way it always did when she was chewing on the inside of it. It had always been one of her tells, especially when she was about to —

 _Knock it off,_ Alex thought, feeling a blush rising to her cheeks. _She just got her ass kicked. Stop acting like a teenager and help her out._

She turned her attention back to assessing the medical needs of her patient, using it as an excuse to extract her hand from Maggie’s grip. She held one finger in front of Maggie’s eyes, staring her down until the detective acquiesced to tracking its movement. “I think we should go to the DEO and get some x-rays,” she said, and saw Maggie’s whole body tense at the words.

“I’m fine,” Maggie growled, and if she sounded irritable, well, surely that was because she was mad about being jumped, nothing more. “I got taken by surprise. Happens to the best of us.”

“Tell me about it,” Alex said, her still-tender leg shrieking from too long spent in a crouched position. But in spite of the pain, she leaned forward, balancing on the balls of her feet when Maggie made an attempt at rising. Her face tensed, her mouth tightening as if she was biting back a groan, and Alex let out a frustrated breath. “Would you please stop being so _you_ and let me help?”

It seemed Maggie would ignore the request — at least until she pressed the heel of her hand to the pavement to try and gain more leverage. The pain must have been overwhelming, for she lurched sideways, her face twisting as if she was fighting the urge to throw up. 

“Maggie,” Alex said, catching at her shoulders. Maggie leaned in to her touch, her head falling forward until it was nearly pressed against Alex’s chest, and Alex felt something catch in her throat, something that made her next words a quiet, intimate plea. “Please. Before those jerks decide to come back and take another crack at us.”

“Even they’re not that stupid,” Maggie grated, but she gave a quick nod from behind the curtain of her hair. “Just take me back to my place. I have all the first aid supplies we need, including a good bottle of Scotch.”

Alex couldn’t help but snort at that. “It’s not the cure for everything.”

“Close enough.” Maggie lifted her hands to catch at Alex’s elbows and inched forward, twisting her legs beneath her until she was kneeling, her feet poised to push herself upright. “We have a deal, Danvers?”

“If you agree that if I have any concerns about internal bleeding, you let me take you to the hospital.” Alex saw Maggie’s jaw tighten at that, but she held firm, her gaze unwavering against the force of her ex’s stubborn streak. “This one’s non-negotiable, Mags.”

“You always were a pain in the ass.” Maggie braced her hands on Alex’s shoulders and gritted her teeth, nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“On three.” Alex braced one hand on the back of Maggie’s shoulder, the other anchored at her hip, and tried to ignore the fluttering shiver that passed through her at the feel of Maggie’s body so near to hers after all this time. She tried really hard.

She failed.

 

\------------------

 

Maggie groused the entire way back to her apartment — about Alex driving the Charger (“It’s a cop car, and you’re not a cop”), about how she was driving the Charger (“Jesus Christ, Danvers, why don’t you just drop the transmission right out of the bottom of the thing and be done with it?”), and about where she parked in front of the building (“Why not just put up a flashing neon sign saying ‘Cop lives here!’”). But she didn’t complain when Alex came around to the passenger side to help her climb out of the car, nor did she utter a word when Alex helped her down the stairs. She’d managed to get back into her old building on the edge of the warehouse district, but she no longer had her “room with a grungy view,” as Maggie had so fondly referred to it on those rare occasions when they’d slept at her place. She lived in a basement apartment now, and Alex supposed this was just another thing to add to the list of ways she’d blown up Maggie’s life when she broke things off. The more time went on, the more she realized just how long that list had become.

But now was not the time to be dwelling on that — not when Maggie was lurching around like a bird with a broken wing. “Let’s get you into the bedroom,” Alex said, but Maggie just shook her head and pointed toward the threadbare brown couch that, Alex presumed, had come with the apartment. “It’ll be easier if we do everything in one place.”

“Here’s fine,” Maggie insisted, and from her tone, it was clear she wouldn’t budge. “I sleep out here most of the time anyway.”

Alex withheld her response to that, because it didn’t feel like the right time to admit that she’d gone back to sleeping on the couch too. Instead, she helped Maggie sit down, flicking on the lamp on the end table before easing the jacket off her shoulders and crouching in front of her. She noted the tension on Maggie’s face, tension she was sure came mostly from the pain in her ribs, and said, “I really need you to let me examine you properly.”

“You could save a lot of time by having Kara come give me the once over, you know,” Maggie pointed out, flashing a tight grin when Alex shook her head. “What, afraid she’ll give you shit for slumming with the ex?”

“She’s had a rough time lately,” Alex said, her hackles rising at the dig. “I think you’d be one of the few people to get just how rough.”

Maggie just looked at her for a moment, something so wounded in her gaze, before dropping her eyes. “You’re right. That was a low blow.” She shook her head, quietly saying, “I was there, you know. After she fell.”

“You were?” Alex froze, some part of her caught like a bug under glass by the realization that Maggie — who had cared about Kara enough to protect her in that bank vault, at the risk of her own career and safety — had been witness to her sister’s near-fatal fall. 

“Yeah. I was working the gang murders, so when we got the call that Supergirl and Reign were fighting, we were first on scene.” Maggie drew in a sharp breath, as if in echo of remembered pain, and said, “I watched her drop.”

Alex resisted the instinct to reach out to Maggie, to take her hand. She settled for clasping her own hands in front of her, softly saying, “I’m glad you were there to protect her the best way you could.” 

Maggie shrugged, wincing as the sudden, too sharp movement jarred her tender ribs. She pressed a hand to her side and drew in a breath, letting out a self-deprecating, “Don’t give me too much credit. I didn’t do shit other than stand there and say, ‘Come on, Kid, fly,’ more times than I could count.” 

But Alex couldn’t let it go at that. “You were there when I wasn’t,” she said, fighting to hold on to Maggie’s gaze. “And not for the first time.”

Something shifted in Maggie’s eyes at that, her hard edge of defensiveness softening just enough that Alex felt like maybe, just maybe, she would be let inside. Then Maggie drew in a slow, ragged breath, dropping her gaze, and said, “All right, fine. Check me out of you need to. Just…go easy, will you? Because this hurts like hell.”

“If only we had the good drugs,” Alex said, and Maggie let out a low chuckle in memory of those early days, when so much of their courtship had been played out while Alex was patching Maggie up in the DEO medbay. Then Maggie gave a rueful smile and held her arms in front of her as high as her battered ribs would allow, giving Alex leave to tug her knit gray shirt upward. It took a while, what with Alex trying to avoid touching bare skin as she eased the shirt past Maggie’s black sports bra and over her head. She did her best not to look at that golden-brown skin; tried hard not to think about when all of it had been hers to touch and taste as she pleased. Yet memories came unbidden: Of late nights and slow Sunday mornings, of soft kisses and languid touches, of Maggie’s breath, sharp and harsh in Alex’s ear, as Maggie’s body convulsed beneath her own.

But now there was no choice but to touch, and Alex fought to steady herself, to keep her hands from shaking as they skimmed over Maggie’s ribs. She went as gently as she could, pressing and prodding bruises that were rapidly darkening, while doing the best to ignore her own response — the heat beneath her skin, the churning tension somewhere south of her stomach, the need, aching and desperate, that seemed to radiate from deep within her bones. And all the while she felt Maggie’s eyes on her, something wary in her gaze. 

“Looks like you took the majority of the hit on your left side,” Alex said as she finished, hearing Maggie let out a breath, one that she apparently hadn’t known she’d been holding. Alex slid her hands upward, checking Maggie’s clavicle, her neck, her jawline. “I’m not feeing any breaks, but it’s possible you could have a hairline fracture than I just can’t feel.”

“Not much to fix that but ice and rest, right?” Maggie asked, her mouth just inches from Alex’s ear — so close, so damn close. Alex felt a shiver run down her spine, the memory of the last time they had been like this so near the surface that she could almost taste it. Maggie had been spooned around her in their bed, holding on like she would never let go — until the moment when she had, when she’d gotten up and walked into the bathroom to shower alone before walking out of Alex’s apartment for the last time. It seemed like yesterday — and a lifetime ago. And it hurt like it had just happened all over again.

Alex sat back on her heels, tucking her hands into her pockets so Maggie wouldn’t see their trembling. “I’ll get you some ice, but you’re going to need something better than Advil to manage the pain. And don’t say Scotch, because that won’t control it either.”

“There’s something in the bathroom,” Maggie said, her hands fidgeting before she settled them in her lap. “It should knock me right out.”

“Lightweight,” Alex teased, and Maggie cracked a grin, her lips pressed tight as if suppressing a laugh. “I’ll get it. You just sit there and breathe as deep as you can, okay?”

“No arguments here.” Maggie eased into the back of the couch, cautiously lifting her right hand to press against her temple, and blew out a slow breath. She was still sitting like that when Alex returned with a bottle of Vicodin she’d found on the second shelf of the near-empty medicine cabinet. 

“What did you need these for?” Alex asked, noting that the prescription had been filled at National City General Hospital’s pharmacy on what, if memory served, was the day after Thanksgiving.

“I hurt my hand,” Maggie said, but before Alex could draw breath to ask how, she changed the subject, quickly adding, “So how’s the hunt for Reign going?”

“I’ve had better,” Alex replied, setting the bottle of Vicodin on the end table. “Still keep the frozen peas in the freezer?”

“First thing I bought.” Maggie waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen, which looked like it had been installed in the eighties and never updated since. “Never know when you’ll need frozen peas to plaster to a bruise.”

Alex walked over to the dingy olive-green refrigerator, extracting the first bag from a large stack of frozen peas in the otherwise barren freezer. “Why? You picking fights with aliens twice your size a lot these days?”

“Not if I can help it.” Maggie turned sideways so she could sit against the arm of the couch, each movement accompanied by a soft whimper of pain, and said, “Towels are in the second drawer, right side of sink.”

“Thanks.” Alex found a stack of brand new dishtowels with a surprisingly cheerful gold and green pattern and wrapped one around the peas, then retrieved a bottle of water from the sparsely filled refrigerator. “Not much food in there. You need me to make a run?”

“There’s some Top Ramen in the cupboard,” Maggie said, ignoring the way Alex’s eyebrows arched up at the notion that Maggie Sawyer, health nut and borderline Vegan, would let that packaged poison in her house, much less consume it. She settled the frozen peas against her side, grunting as they made contact. “Could you hand me that sweater? And the blanket and pillow.”

Alex retrieved a dark purple cardigan sweater from a hook near the door, picking up a scent that was indefinably Maggie’s from the garment. She resisted the urge to bury her nose in its folds, instead bringing it to Maggie and helping her slide it over her shoulders. Next came the blanket and pillow lying haphazardly on the far side of the couch, and Alex helped to arrange each until Maggie was settled for the night. “Sure you don’t want your bed?”

“Very sure,” Maggie said, kicking off first one boot, then the other, before easing into the pillow. She reached for the bottle of water on the side table, hissing when the attempt to twist set her ribs aflame. “Dammit.”

“Don’t do that, you dope.” Alex opened the Vicodin bottle, shaking one into her palm, and held out both pill and water. “One every four to six hours, two if you really need it, at least until tomorrow morning. And I think you should take the day off.”

“Oh trust me, I’m not getting off this couch for a while.” Maggie popped the pill into her mouth and swallowed it down, saying, “In case I didn’t say it, I’m glad you came along when you did.”

“You’re welcome.” Alex sat down on the edge of the cushion on the far side of the couch, maintaining a safe distance from even Maggie’s sock-clad feet. “So you never told me who those guys were.” 

“They were supposed to be CIs,” Maggie said, pulling her belt free from her jeans one slow tug at a time. She tossed it in the same direction as her boots, adding, “I’ve been trying to get a lead on Reign and these guys claimed to have intel. But apparently, what they really wanted to do was kick my ass.”

“Well, you’re not the only one who’s gotten her ass kicked lately.” Alex framed the words in the low tones of a confession, but Maggie stole her thunder with one knowing look. “What, you know?”

“Danvers,” Maggie said, an edge of disappointment in her voice. “Who do you think was working the perimeter so they could airlift you out?”

Alex paused, skimming through her fuzzy recollection of the events that had followed Reign snapping her leg. She didn’t remember much between J’onn lifting her onto the stretcher and her return to the Legions ship — just a haze of red and blue lights, and noise, and searing pain. “I don’t…I thought the NCPD got hit by her too.” 

“Oh we did, and I was right in the thick of it.” Maggie closed her eyes and squirmed deeper into the cushion, pulling the blanket tight, and Alex resisted the urge to reach over and tuck it around her. “I was in the middle of cleaning up that mess when I got word about the bank robbery that wasn’t, so I called my captain and took point on making sure no one screwed with your little charade.”

“Thanks,” Alex said, and Maggie cracked one eye open, looking at her from across the distance of the couch. “I mean it. I’m glad you were backing me — backing us up.” And then the implications of that hit, and she rounded on the detective, her brow furrowing. “Wait a minute. Why didn’t you have backup tonight?”

And Maggie just tilted her head to the side, and smiled tightly, and said, “I did, but then he got summoned to DC to talk to the president.”

 _Oh,_ Alex thought, and then, out loud, in a sharp outrush of breath, “Oh.” She swallowed, shifting her weight against the couch cushion, realizing how uncomfortable it was — or maybe it was just that she felt uncomfortable in this strange place, this place that she had banished Maggie to without really considering the collateral damage. “I didn’t know you were still in touch.”

“We still consult on cases a few times a week,” Maggie said. “I’ve been sending him all the intel I can track on Reign’s movements. That’s what Winn’s been using to —“

“Build our database.” Alex clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from fidgeting, swallowing hard as the pieces began to fall into place. “Winn was texting with you tonight, wasn’t he?”

Maggie nodded, sliding behind her tough, cynical detective’s façade in a way that made Alex’s heart hurt. “He was supposed to come serve as my backup instead, but then he had to stay late because his boss pulled a Cat Grant on him.”

“Touché.” Alex glanced down at her jeans, finding it easier to focus on a stray thread in the seam than Maggie’s piercing gaze. “And the other half of Team Guardian?”

“Either got stuck late at work or was busy banging Lena Luthor.” Alex’s head snapped up at that, her mouth falling open, and Maggie let out a strained laugh. “What, no one told you that either?”

“I…um…” Alex felt like someone had punched her in the chest, as if the world had been spinning at four times its usual speed and she simply hadn’t been able to catch up. “I guess I haven’t been paying attention.”

“It took me a while too.” Maggie lifted her shoulders and carefully slid one arm, then the other, into the sleeves of her sweater. “I spent the better part of November inside a bottle and most of December banging anything that moved, and then I got bored with both.”

Alex winced at that; at the thought of Maggie drinking herself into oblivion of course, not that she hadn’t done the same, but harder at the thought of Maggie sleeping with someone else. Multiple someone else’s, it seemed — not that Alex had any right to judge on that account. She might have had only one drunken night with Sara Lance, but she’d done it nonetheless — and no matter how good it had felt in the moment, it would always be something she’d look back on with regret.

She cleared her throat, shifting the subject back to safer territory. “So you’ve stayed in touch with everyone? J’onn, Winn, James?” 

“Even Sam and Lena,” Maggie said, shooting her the slightest of smirks. “Though that was just the one time. I’m not exactly the wine and crudité type.”

“Color me shocked.” Alex glanced around the spare, barely furnished apartment, with its drab beige paint and that fist-sized chunk of broken plaster near the bathroom door. It was hard not to notice the few splashes of color: The lively red-gold patterning on the throw pillow and blanket Maggie had used to make her bed, the brightly-colored dish towel that was wrapped around the frozen peas, the cut of the sweater draped over Maggie’s shoulders, which was suspiciously close in style to the dark blue sweater Alex had received for Christmas. And then there was the card with a red heart on it, propped next to the bonsai trees on a small table near the bedroom door. “My mom’s still in touch, isn’t she?”

Maggie swallowed, and for a split second, Alex thought she saw a tear shining in those dark eyes. “We talk — not a lot, but every few weeks, and when she was here for Thanksgiving she took me shopping. Said she was going to give me a gift card but she knew if she did I’d never use it.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Alex asked, more to herself than to Maggie. But the words, so carelessly uttered, managed to light a fire in Maggie, to piss her off in way that Alex hadn’t seen in — well, she wasn’t quite sure how long. Since the barnburner fights in the lead-up to their destruction, maybe, or perhaps even earlier than that, to the silly yet shockingly heated argument over whose clothes were going where in Alex’s bedroom closet that had ended with the two of them making out on the bathroom floor.

“What, did you think that just because you erased me from your life that everyone else would do the same?” Maggie asked, and there was something hard in her tone — something so hurt and brittle that Alex could feel her fighting against the instinct to let it turn vicious, even from this distance. “I didn’t ask anything from your mom, Alex. She called me and said that no one should lose two mothers in one lifetime, and she wasn’t going to be the person responsible for that happening to me. And as for the others — most of the time, it’s about work, but yeah, sometimes we have a few beers and shoot some pool when we know you won’t be around. And it’s hard, and it hurts to not have you there, but it also makes me feel a little bit like I didn’t lose everything when you walked away.”

“Maggie…I didn’t…” Alex trailed off, feeling a sharp stab of guilt run through her. Because it had been her choice, she had admitted as much to Kara when they were on Earth-1. She had chosen to prioritize having kids over the reality of her life with Maggie, and then she’d let herself be talked out of the idea of coming back home and fixing things not just by Kara, but Sara too. “I thought about…I mean, I wanted to…you don’t know how many times I wanted to go back to the way things were.”

“When we each knew what the other was thinking with a single glance?” Maggie pulled the sweater around her a little tighter, as if its warmth was an armor of sorts. “Me too, Ba —“ She broke off, wincing, and then shifted the cold pack against her side, taking a slow, deep breath. “But we can’t go back. What we had…somewhere along the way, we broke it. And we didn’t even notice until it was too late to fix.”

Alex felt a sob bubble up in her throat and put her head down, fighting to keep it from erupting. Tears burned at the back of her eyes, the same tears that came up every time she let herself really think about what she’d done to Maggie, how she’d severed their connection with the abruptness of a sword slicing through bone. “Every time I think about you walking out that door, I realize that I did the same thing that your parents did. I sent you away with nothing but a suitcase to sleep on someone else’s couch.”

“The Econolodge across from the station, actually,” Maggie said, and there was something so resigned in her words, as if a part of her had expected she would end up there all along. “But I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

“But I should have,” Alex said, her gut clenching as the sobs she’d tried to keep in check took hold. “I really should have.”

Maggie didn’t say anything; simply waited until Alex was done, unmoving. And no matter how much Alex wished that Maggie would slide across the couch and pull her close, she knew it wasn’t what she deserved. The days when she had a right to that kind of comfort from Maggie Sawyer had ended the moment she said goodbye.

“I love you,” Alex said when she could get control of herself again. “That never stopped. I don’t think it ever will.”

“For me either,” Maggie admitted, and Alex could hear tears in her voice — tears, and maybe something that might be the Vicodin kicking in. She seemed to be softening at the edges, an indication that the drugs were drawing her down to a place where she might be able to sleep. Yet she blinked hard, as if fighting to keep her thoughts together, and said, “Love was never our problem, Alex. We just forgot how to hear each other somewhere along the way.”

“Do you think…” Alex brushed her cheeks with the backs of her hands, a question bubbling to her lips. It was a terrifying one to ask, and after everything that had happened, saying it out loud would make her so vulnerable. Yet she took a breath — took a risk — and said, “Do you think, maybe…if we learned how to do that again, that there might be a chance?”

“Do you still want kids?” Maggie asked, and Alex felt her whole body tense. She did the only thing she could do; she nodded, feeling the tears spill downward again, tears born of the overwhelming fear that no matter how much she tried, no one would ever come close to loving her like Maggie had. That she had sacrificed the great love of her life on the altar of a dream that couldn’t — maybe wouldn’t — ever become a reality.

But Maggie didn’t react with disappointment, or anger, or anything else that Alex might have anticipated based on how they’d left things three months ago. She simply asked, “And if you’d be willing to give me time to get used to the idea, no matter how long it took?” She waited a beat for Alex to absorb the question before quietly adding, “The thing is, you never gave me time, Alex. You just kept backing me into a corner until I couldn’t breathe.”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Alex said, as gently as she could. “I was trying not to…” She swallowed, tossing a sheepish glance Maggie’s way. “To not push my feelings down.”

“Oh, God. I created a monster.” Maggie gave a rueful laugh, and then nodded, as if she understood what Alex was trying to say. “I would never want you to, you know that. But I’d just gone through this tremendously intense thing with my dad and it was …a lot.”

And Alex saw then what she’d done — how she’d pushed when Maggie needed space, how she’d insisted when Maggie needed time to come around. How she’d strangled their relationship when what it needed was light and oxygen and room to grow.

“We went too fast,” she said, almost to herself, and saw Maggie nod at the words.

“We did.” Maggie glanced away, her face so sorrowful in profile, before turning to look at Alex and softly saying, “And I have to own my share of that, because I was so in love with you. I got so swept up in the possibilities that I let myself ignore the signs that it was too soon. And then the second we hit a bump in the road, you bailed.”

“I didn’t bail,” Alex exclaimed, hearing resentment creep into her tone. She swallowed it down, trying to keep her voice even, to not spark an argument that could shatter this fragile détente before it even formed. “I mean, maybe it felt like that to you, but that wasn’t what I wanted at all. I just had…” She trailed off, not quite sure how to explain the mix of panic and uncertainty that had gripped her in the weeks leading up to their demise.

“Cold feet, Danvers,” Maggie said, shooting her a grin — that knowing, dark gallows’ humor grin that she flashed whenever life kicked her in the teeth. “Pretty sure that’s the phrase you’re looking for.”

Alex sat with that for a long moment, her mind running back through every step, trying to ferret out the breaks and missteps, the errors in logic that had led to their dissolution. How she had been reluctant to move forward with planning the wedding, first because of Kara, then her dad. Their stupid fight about DJ vs. band. Pushing Maggie into inviting her dad to the shower, as if to force her into some sort of resolution that would clear the path for their perfect future. And the fights about kids — those two awful weeks spent in ever-escalating fights about kids. 

And then she cursed. A lot.

“You’re right,” she said, and heard Maggie let out a soft chuckle at the admission. “I mean, I didn’t see it at the time, but looking back…I got scared, and instead of talking to you, I focused on this one thing.” She looked up at Maggie and cautiously added, “I’m not saying kids aren’t important to me. I’m just saying that maybe…maybe I used you not wanting them as an excuse because I didn’t want to talk about the bigger stuff.”

“I don’t doubt that you wanted to marry me,” Maggie said, and Alex heard a hint of forgiveness in the words. “But forever’s a long time, and even someone brave enough to jump off a building could get scared by it.”

She settled back into the pillow, her eyes closing, and for a moment, Alex thought she had drifted off to sleep. Then she blinked and looked at Alex, her eyes heavy lidded but still alert. “I know you want to try again, and so do I. But not if we just end up in same place we started. It has to be something…” She trailed off, her gaze drifting downward as if searching for a word.

“New,” Alex said, and Maggie nodded, her eyes flicking back up to meet Alex’s once again. Alex tried to contain the hope blooming in her chest, to keep both her voice and her expectations measured as she asked, “So how would you start?”

“I’m not sure.” Maggie looked down at the floor, her face closed in on itself. Her voice, when it came, was a low, ragged whisper, the sort that Alex had only heard when Maggie was at her most vulnerable — in those precious few moments when Maggie had really let her in, had really let her see the damage her parents had done to her in the name of protecting their own vanity. “For the first time in my life I really believed I was good enough, and then you took that away from me. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

 _Oh, God,_ Alex thought, feeling her stomach twist as the reality of the chaos she’d created finally hit home. She’d closed herself off from Maggie, casting her off at the first sign of trouble instead of taking the time to work through their problems like a person who was ready for marriage would do. _Who would do that?_ she remembered asking when Maggie had been dumped by her last girlfriend — but the answer was now crystal clear. She would do it — over something that mattered, sure, but something that should have been talked about from the get-go. Something that should have — maybe could have — been sorted out with time. 

“Maybe we start with me asking if you can forgive me,” she said, reaching over to rest a hand on Maggie’s leg atop the blanket. She felt as much as saw Maggie tense at that and eased back, preparing to pull away. But Maggie just drew in a breath, her eyes yielding a tacit permission.

“I suppose I can’t fault you for being bad at relationships when I’ve sucked at them my entire life,” Maggie admitted, and Alex felt a weight lift off her shoulders — not just because of the compassion inherent in the words, but because they offered the possibility, fragile as it was, of a way forward for them. “But we have to learn how to listen to each other, Alex. If we don’t learn how to really pay attention, this will never work.” 

“I can do that,” Alex said, and felt tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. She brushed them away, sniffling, and said, “I can. I’ve realized these last months just how much I have to learn, not just about myself, but about being someone who can be steady.” She waited for Maggie to look into her eyes, to really see her, before saying, “I want to be that for you, Maggie. To not just say ‘ride or die,’ but live it too.”

For a split second she saw hope in Maggie’s eyes — the sort of hope that had flared in them when Alex had asked for her hand in marriage so many months ago. Then it faded, replaced by something tentative, something that made Alex feel ashamed. All those months of promising forever, and she’d been the one to tear it away.

“I can’t make any guarantees,” Maggie said, and there was no recrimination in her tone — just the resignation of someone who’d seen one too many promises turn into a lie. “By the time we’re done, we may be in different places.”

“But we could be, right?” Alex dared to stretch her hand across the intervening space, dared to catch Maggie’s fingers in her own. “I mean…we could find a way. Couldn’t we?”

“I guess we’re just going to have to have faith,” Maggie said, and for an instant Alex saw a spark in Maggie’s eyes, the same brilliant, incandescent flame that had drawn Alex to her, that had awakened something she could no longer deny. She dared to hope that that this wasn’t just loneliness and Vicodin talking — that there was something real and true and pure there that they could nurture back to life. She didn’t know if she was up to all it would entail — but God, was she willing to try.

“So what’s next?” Alex asked, and heard Maggie let out a full-throated laugh, one that was quickly followed by a hiss of pain. “Okay, first of all, don’t laugh. But second, why are you laughing at me?”

“Oh, just…” Maggie shook her head, her face lighting up in a fond, dimpled smile. “Two minutes in to whatever this is we’re doing and you’re already trying to figure out how to check stuff off your to-do list.” 

“Caught me.” Alex squeezed Maggie’s hand, holding her gaze until she was all but lost in those dark almond eyes, and smiled. “I suppose I should start by letting you get some rest.”

“That…” Maggie’s eyelids drooped, and she eased back into the pillow, sliding downward until she was fully resting against the arm of the couch. “Damn Vicodin. Told you it would knock me out.”

“Right as usual.” Alex got up and, without thinking, slid her hand beneath Maggie’s neck, easing the pillow more fully beneath her head. She heard Maggie let out a soft sigh, her eyelids fluttering open. 

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed your face?” Maggie asked, her fingers twisting beneath the blanket, as if resisting the urge to reach up for her. “No matter how much it hurt, I never stopped hoping that I’d wake up in the morning and still be next to you.”

“Me too.” Alex leaned over, pressing a kiss to Maggie’s forehead, and resisted the temptation — God, was it a temptation — to slide a little lower and capture her lips too. She settled for drawing her fingers through Maggie’s hair, smoothing it back from her forehead in a way that had always helped soothe her to sleep, and said, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? See if I can bring you something other than ramen.” 

“Mmmm. Szechuan tofu and egg drop soup,” Maggie murmured, her eyes drifting shut again.

“You got it.” Alex dared to press her palm against Maggie’s cheek — just one quick, electric touch — and whispered, “I love you, Maggie Sawyer.”

She turned off the tabletop lamp, leaving just the overhead light above the kitchen sink for illumination, and walked to the door. The lock was crap, and she made a note to mention that Maggie needed something better — before realizing that what she really needed to do was shut her mouth and give Maggie space. To wait — wait for time to do its work, for Maggie to be ready — with perhaps the tiniest bit of wooing along the way. 

If anyone deserved a little bit of wooing, it was Maggie Sawyer.

She opened the door, calling “Sweet dreams” over her shoulder as she locked it behind her. A voice followed her as the door clicked shut, murmuring the words that her heart most wanted to hear — words that brought hope into what, for so long now, had been a world of impenetrable darkness.

“I love you, Alex Danvers.” And then, very faintly, and with only a hint of irritation in the tone: "Happy Valentine's Day."

She smiled, and turned, and started her long walk home.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: Aliens acting badly, mild violence, prescription drug use, zomg!angst.
> 
> The title refers to two bits of the folklore regarding Valentine's Day. According to legend, St. Valentine was a cleric who was condemned by the Romans for marrying people via Christian rites - and in some of those legends, he was a Bishop. The "Key" refers to a French tradition that lovers would give each other a key on Valentine's Day. It was meant to symbolize that they were offering the key to their hearts.


End file.
